


Snowflakes

by kwerkykat



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Male Slash, Secret Relationship, Self-Harm, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwerkykat/pseuds/kwerkykat
Summary: Jack's family moves to Burgess to try and recover from a tragedy and Jack has no hopes for it being any different from before. But one boy at his new school can't help but notice the new kid with snow white hair. Falling in love never goes the way you think.AU BenneFrost





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story is tagged as self harm. I will post a warning at the beginning of chapters that may include descriptions of self harm, but it will be referenced occasionally by characters throughout the fanfiction. While the self-harm is not the central plot of this story, it is in it if it bothers you.

Jack Frost didn't believe in simple, easy fixes. Ever since he was a young child, before anything bad had ever happened to him, he thought it was nonsense and never ran away from a fight or a problem. He either tackled dilemmas head on, or let them settle under his skin, but never turned his back to them. Not like his parents were making him do. Making him run away from what troubled him. He tried to tell them that it wouldn't work; that leaving wouldn't magically dissipate his wrongdoings and that he'd always keep what he did locked inside of him- the visions and memories constantly burning in the back of his head, flaring up when he'd least expect it. They wouldn't listen and insisted that a "change of scenery" would do him good. Maybe his grades would go up? Maybe he'd make some new friends? And maybe... well, just maybe he'd learn to forgive.

It was a big load of bull.

Don't get him wrong, Jack's parents were understanding enough. But parents could only connect so much to a troubled teenager, and emotional and mental capacity levels are usually not shared between parent and child. It had been a long process for them to start feeling slightly normal, but Jack had never gotten over it. Mr. and Mrs. Frost still had their days where getting out of bed seemed impossible, and their lives had certainly turned upside down. It seemed perfectly logical that moving to a new, small town would be a good healing process for their son and for them too. Their family had suffered tremendously. A breath of fresh, unburdened air was just what they needed.

They had moved from a two story, three-bedroom house in the countryside to a two bedroom, one story house in a suburb with yellow paint and rose bushes in the front yard. It had two bathrooms, a spacious living room with blue carpet, and Jack's room in the back right corner of the house had two windows that kept it brightly lit. The first thing he did was unpack his curtains and shut out the sunshine. It was an especially warm summer-a season Jack never much cared for-and his mood had diminished from angsty to downright miserable. He had been in Burgess for three weeks, just enough time to unpack his most important items and get enrolled in Burgess High School. He had already bought his new school supplies, which had been thrown carelessly in the corner of his room, and he dreaded organizing them for school that Monday. His third year of high school in a new town. He was only vaguely excited to see what type of art classes he'd be able to take and the types of resources that would be there for him to experiment with. The closest he'd been to touching a paintbrush recently was when he unpacked them four days ago but hadn't gotten a chance to actually _use_ them. He was feeling antsy. His fingers were itching to paint, but his canvases were dug deep into some unpacked boxes buried in the garage, and he didn't want to ask his dad to go get them.

His body was aching for a cigarette too, but he saved those for his alone time in the woods. To keep both of his addictions at bay, he settled with drawing until he couldn't tell what was real and what was art. When school started, and everything was unpacked, he'd try to relax and have his zen time. Just two days. Two days and he'd be subjected to hormonal teenagers at a whole new place and be ignored and invisible like he'd been for the past three years of his life. He hated nothing more than being invisible.

But there were some things you couldn't change in life. Like how some people just seemed to be born athletic, or popular. He was born translucent. Not literally, of course, but sometimes he did look down at himself to see if he was still there. He had a knack for blending in, a knack that he didn't highly value. You'd think a teenager like him would want to disappear into the crowd. But that wasn't the case one bit. All he wanted was to be noticed and appreciated and _looked at_ , like he was at least worth _something_. Hell, he even bleached his hair a blindingly bright shade of snow white and wore iridescent blue contacts. He was desperate. Even with his incredibly noticeable appearance, people's eyes skirted over him. And it wasn't like he was unattractive, or short.

Jack padded to his closest window and pushed back the blinds. It was eight in the evening, but as he touched the glass, it was still heated from the afternoon sun beating down. His fingertips warmed slightly, an altogether unfamiliar sensation, and he drew them back and to his chest. They went back to their usual temperature; a chilly, uncomfortable state. He shivered and quickly snatched his hoodie off of his bed and tugged it over his head. He was often cold, his hands and feet always freezing and he both disliked and cherished the feeling. He rubbed his eyes a bit and yawned. It was still early, but moving across the state had taken a toll on his body. He decided that he'd draw for a few hours before submitting to his drowsiness.

His sketch book was on the top drawer of his desk, right next to his tin box that contained some of his tangible secrets. The sight of the box made his fingers twitch and he became hyper aware of the sensations he felt on his skin. He quickly retrieved what he wanted before he could change his mind and flopped onto his bed. For the longest time he just stared at the blank page. Getting frustrated, he snapped it shut and tossed it onto a pile of clothes by his bed. With a fluid motion, he clicked his lamp off and tugged his blanket up to his chin. Who said you had to stay up late on the weekends?

And if anyone did, it's not like they talked to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out this story!  
> Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Chapter Two

Jack woke to the sound of his alarm, chiming precisely at 6:00 A.M., just like he had set it the night before. He groaned loudly and slammed it with his fist, successfully shutting it off without breaking it. With a distressed sigh, he sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes with a yawn. The day had arrived. First day of Junior year at Burgess High School. Fantastic.

He pushed back his covers and swung his legs over the side of his bed. With one last stretch, he got up and made his way to the bathroom. Half awake, he turned on the shower to a verging on chilly spray and stripped his clothes off, stepped in, and just stood in the middle of the water, letting it cascade down his face with closed eyes. He loved his morning showers, but couldn't stay in for too long because his mother specifically told him to not use up all the hot water(like he used much) because his father and her had to get ready too. He washed quickly and exited, wrapping a towel around his waist and using another to dry his hair. He glanced at the mirror and cursed. Fumbling with the doorknob, he burst into his room to collect his contacts and ran back into the bathroom before anyone could claim it. Soon enough, he had bright blue eyes and finally looked at himself without contempt. _Alright. I'm acceptable looking now._

He dressed in his go to outfit: a plain T-shirt, tight brown pants that were a little ragged at the ankles, and, of course, his signature blue hoodie. He made sure the sleeves were secured at his wrists and hauled his bag off the floor before heading to the living room. No one had woken up yet, so he enjoyed a short moment of silence before remembering with a start that he had forgotten to grab something. After fetching it from his drawer, he glanced at his phone and decided he'd walk to the bus stop now. After quietly slipping out the door and locking it, he walked down the street until he saw three other teenagers on a corner. There was a pair of twins, each listening to their music devices, and a beefy girl with short brown hair who look absolutely enraptured with a book titled _Horses of the Past_. They didn't budge an inch when he came up. How very typical.

The bus arrived shortly, and Jack took a seat near the middle. The whole bus ride, despite it getting rather crowded, no one sat next to him or even glanced his way. He tried to not let it get to him and decided to preoccupy himself with his schedule. The school was rather odd, running on days named 'A' and 'B'. Each one had four periods to it, each lasting over an hour. A plus to it, though, was that they had a 45-minute lunch. For the "A" day that Jack had ahead of him, American History was the first one. Then Algebra 2, lunch, Intermediate Painting(which was the _only_ one he waslooking forward to out of his whole day), and then English. Not the best day, but it had his favorite medium. His next day, though (the "B" day), consisted of Intermediate Drawing, Beginning Sculpture, Beginning Ceramics, and a Forensic Science class which actually sounded particularly interesting to him.

After arriving at the school, he was instructed with a letter in the mail to go to the office with his contact information and they'd input it into the computer, introduce him to the councilor, and give him a map of the campus. On first impression, it was bigger than his old school, but considering that his last school had a grand total of 146 students it was no surprise. This one had approximately 750 students. It also looked like an old school that had had some remodeling over the past thirty years, with patches of chipped brick poking under newer walls and exposed bars of metal. The grounds weren't too large, but still well-kept and had many trees and flowers lining the fence that stated the boundaries. Behind the school was a rather dense forest area with tall old trees and a railroad that marked the opposite edge of the forest. Inside the school, the main hall was painted a light blue and the office was on the immediate left of the entrance with glass doors and a wall made mostly of windows. He entered it and walked up to the desk. The receptionist was currently talking on the phone, and she held up a finger to tell him she'd be "one minute". He nodded politely and took a step back to retrieve his papers. After several moments filled with her murmurs on the phone, she hung up and smiled at him.

"Hello. How could I help you, dear?" She crossed her arms on the desk and leaned forward.

"I was told to give you these." He said and offered the contact sheets to her, which she took with her left hand and looked at.

"Oh, yes. You're Mr. Frost. Welcome to Burgess." She smiled sweetly at him, and Jack noticed she had a lot of smile wrinkles around her mouth and chocolate brown eyes behind her thick framed black glasses.

"Thank you," he said and gave a half smile.

"Well, here's your map," she said while pulling out a sheet of paper from a drawer, "and I'm sorry to tell you that Mrs. Kelly isn't here quite yet. She's the counselor. But whenever you need to talk about classes or college, just pop on by and make an appointment, okay?"

Jack nodded again.

"Got any questions or concerns, dear?"

He shook his head.

"Well, don't be shy if you need anything." She gave him another smile before taking his paper and typing up the contents into the computer.

He exited the office and looked at his map. The first class was upstairs in room A 204. The one after that, room E 105. And his art classes; room B 113. He only really cared about them. He quickly found a hallway that was void of students chatting after months of not seeing each other, talking about all the places they went, what classes they had with who, and how much they hated waking up early. He slid down the wall onto his butt and rested the back of his head against the rough brick and closed his eyes. After giving himself a calming moment, he pulled his sketch book out of his bag and began to doodle until the bell rang and he decided he'd walk upstairs and meet Mr. Colson for a thrilling hour+ of history.

The period went by rather slow. He kept his head down in the back of the room, hunched over his pencil and drawing paper for most of the time, only raising his head to take the syllabus from the girl who sat in front of him and when the teacher's aide passed out the textbooks. He ended up filling two pages, front to back, before having to shuffle to Algebra, and repeating what he had gone through the last period, but this time filling two and a half pages. After the bell rang, half of the school, him included, were allowed to eat. Since he didn't much care for eating at school, he decided to tour the grounds before his first _real_ class of the day. The grass was well groomed and perfectly green. Too bright and almost fake looking to him. He walked around to the back of the school, using a stick he found to drag against the fence like a bored child, one hand in his hoodie pocket. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings until the _tink-tink-tink_ of the fence stopped abruptly. He backtracked and noticed that a good three foot wide gap was missing from it. With a glance at his phone, he decided that he had enough time to go exploring in the little forest before having to rush back.

He crouched down a bit to slip through the gap and yanked his bag to unhook it from where it caught on the ragged metal. Straightening up, he took one last glance around the perimeter to see if anyone was watching him. There was no one in sight. Perfect.

He went into the safe cover of the trees and felt the change of temperature. It was much darker under the thick foliage of leaves, and he felt much better about this town. There wasn't a good safe place at his old school. After walking for several minutes, he stopped and kneeled down to dig through his bag until he found what he had been looking forward to (second to his painting class) since he walked onto the bus.

He stuck the cigarette between his lips while trying to fish out his lighter from his front pocket. With a grin, he pulled it out and flicked it on. It had been his favorite lighter since he got it a year ago. It was light blue with snowflakes on it. It was odd for a lighter, considering the appearance contradicted and clashed with the contents, but that's what he loved most about it.

He brought it to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled. It caught, and he happily sucked in a lungful of smoke. He could feel it lazily travel down his throat and warm him up from the inside. It was fucking _beautiful_. People didn't understand smoking. Even some people who smoked didn't understand it. It was _art_. It was art that filled you up, got you warm, and expelled from the depths of you. It saw you, got close to your heart, and kissed the inside of your mouth. When it departed from your lips, it made beautiful clouds and he swore he could see his very _soul_ reflected in its tendrils.

He took ten minutes to savor the feeling and slipped in to his zen mode. He closed his eyes and held the smoke inside him and blew it slowly from in-between his lips, barely opening them. When he finished it, he took out his phone only to realize that the bell had rang seven minutes ago.

"Fantastic," He mumbled and snatched his bag from the ground and brushed it off a bit before sprinting to the hole in the fence. He didn't stop running until he was right in front of the door. He popped a mint into his mouth to hopefully cover up the smell and with his head hung, he slowly opened it and silently begged that the teacher wouldn't yell at him. Thankfully, the class was already in a hustle instead of how his other classes had gone about. Some were walking back and forth, getting paint from the table at the front of the room. Most were chatting among themselves; laughing and smearing paint on each other while the teacher wasn't looking.

Speaking of, the teacher was currently walking towards him. He was of medium height with short cropped black hair and dark brown eyes.

"Get lost?" He asked and smiled.

Jack shrugged and nodded.

"Well, welcome, new student, to Painting." He gestured around with both hands. "Your name's Jackson, right? First year here?"

"It's Jack," He said. "I prefer Jack. And yes."

"Jack, okay, I'll try to remember that. Well, a lot of the kids here already know where the stuff is. I guess I could show you around and tell you what's up for this year." He clapped his hand on the teen's back and started to walk forward.

Across the room, a certain Jamie Bennett had perked up his head when he heard Mr. Reyes talking. To his surprise, the person he was talking to was a complete stranger. Strangers were not common to Burgess. Everyone who lived there had lived there since they were little. Jamie stood up to get a better look at the new kid. The most notable feature of his was a shock of white hair. Also, he was rather tall and skinny. He didn't look like he belonged there at all. And for some reason, Jamie felt himself wanting to get to know him. Not just because he was different and new and looked rather lonely. There was something else. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

He quickly got up and made his way over. He had never been a shy person. Occasionally reserved, but mostly open and all smiles.

"Hey Mr. Reyes," he greeted with a little wave. He hadn't gotten to say hello to him since the period started, so in a way he was killing two birds with one stone.

"Hey Jamie," He said with a smile. "How's it been going?"

"Pretty good. Had a nice summer."

"Great! Oh, pardon my manners, this is Jack." He patted his back and smiled.

"Hey, I'm Jamie." He said and stuck out his hand to shake. Jack hesitated before taking it and giving a slightly loose shake. Jamie looked back at Mr. Reyes. "I could show him around the room if you want? And tell him what we're doing."

The man clapped his hands together. "That'd be great. What do you say, Jack?"

The teen shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

"Jamie's a good kid. You guys'll get along swimmingly." He looked over to the table by the window and saw one of the girls waving her hand in the air. "If you need me, just ask." He said to Jack before walking over to her.

"Okay, so, the cabinet right here is for sculpture class," He patted the grey one that was right next to them. "So, we'll skip that."

Jack almost wanted to tell him that he was in that class, but the other boy had already started walking towards the front of the room.

"These two are for painting and drawing." He opened it up. "It's got extra paint, obviously, and paintbrushes. I don't recommend using them because they're old and crusty because kids don't like cleaning them. The top shelf has rulers and scissors. The bottom one has sketchbooks, but we don't use them in here. The shelves right in that corner have all the premade canvases and watercolor paper." He moved over to the second one.

"Here's the gesso and gloss medium, plus the big brushes. Oh, and the trays. He keeps a lot of examples in this cabinet, so you probably won't use it a lot. On that table over there in the front he sets out the paint and the trays and stuff, but you have to put the trays you use back into the cabinet. Okay, all the way over here we have our storage cabinets. It's just a free for all, so you can put your crap wherever. This one is for third period. Back in this corner we have the sinks. Mr. Reyes doesn't like it when they get messy, so don't let paint sit around and always clean the brushes." Jamie finished with a satisfied nod of his head. "I think that's it. Got it?"

Jack looked around the room and slowly nodded his head.

"Yeah, I think I got it."

"Cool. C'mon, I'll tell you what we're doing."

He walked back to his table, which didn't have anyone else at it. The class was rather small, actually, but the room was big enough to keep it from being crowded, even if they had ten more students. Jack followed him and stood at the chair across Jamie until the brown-haired boy gestured at it. Jack slowly slid into the seat.

The rest of the class went by rather fast. Jamie explained the assignment to Jack, letting him borrow his paintbrushes that were much better than the ones available there, and kept chatting through the whole period. He was amazed at Jack's talent. Even with the simple start of the year assignment, his skill couldn't help but show.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Jack has said rather modestly as Jamie complimented him at how perfectly the paint was blended together.

"I'm not very artsy myself," Jamie admitted. "I've been taking the painting class just for an easy B."

"Isn't the saying 'an easy A'?" Jack asked with a little smile.

"Not with the way I paint." Jamie said and chuckled.

Jack laughed-an actual laugh-for the first time in months. He caught himself in surprise and looked confused for a second before Jamie started talking again.

"But actually, Mr. Reyes is a really awesome teacher. He cares about his students."

Jack glanced out of the corner of his eye to look at the man. He was talking avidly to one of the students, before laughing loudly and high-fiving him.

Jack smiled and looked back at the brown-haired teen. Jamie grinned and went back to his painting but kept chatting.

When the bell rang, Jack was extremely disappointed. Even though the classes were longer than he was used to, it wasn't enough. He hadn't painted in forever and art was kind of his thing. And, to his surprise, he deeply enjoyed talking to Jamie. He hadn't realized how fantastic it was to talk to someone. He hadn't realized how lonely he really was. Human interaction had been scarce for some time.

And probably the weirdest, yet most amazing, thing he had experienced his first day was that Jamie actually _noticed_ him. And appeared to enjoy talking to him. For once he was seen.

Jack could cry.

But he stuck with smiling like an idiot every time he thought about how awesome third period was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Smoking Causes Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, Emphysema, and May Complicate Pregnancy*  
> I feel like I need to post this?
> 
> Anyway, reviews are always appreciated!


	3. Chapter Three

Even English didn't damper Jack's mood. He hadn't felt this good since... Well, since he was fifteen. For two years he had lived with a dark, ugly cloud over him. Jamie... Jamie made him feel welcomed and even a little important. Jack felt happy. Jack felt not so invisible. Jack went home and smiled at his surprised parents before walking into his room, tossing his bag on his chair, and flopping on his bed. He grinned at the ceiling and ran his fingers through his hair.

Overall, it was the best first day of school he'd had in a long time. Maybe since forever.

At 6:30, his mom, Anna, called him in for dinner. The kitchen still had cardboard boxes with plates, glasses, silverware, and his mom's horrendous cow themed kitchen decorations. She had cooked vegetarian lasagna, Jack's personal favorite, and served it to him on a white plate with little yellow flowers painted around the rim; something he made when he was thirteen and didn't quite know how talented he actually was. He looked at it and smiled before looking up at his mom.

"Thanks," he said and took a bite.

"Of course, sweetie." She sat down and glanced at his dad. Mark was reading an article and she cleared her throat. "Ahem."

He looked up with a start and set it down. "Sorry."

"Well, how was your first day?" She asked.

"Actually, it was pretty good." He said after swallowing. "No shootings. No drug crackdowns."

"Jack," his mom warned halfheartedly. Honestly, she was just glad he wasn't glaring at his plate. He was eating with a pleasant look on his face. His eyes, though not his natural shade, had a little glimmer in them. Like they used to.

He grinned at her tone and took another fork full. "How was work?" He asked.

"Oh, you know. Like the old branch. But here." She said.

"I typed on the computer." His dad said. "Spilled some coffee on my pants."

Jack chuckled, and Anna swore she felt her heart grow two sizes.

"So, what were your classes today?"

"History, Math, English. But I had my painting class, and that was awesome."

"Do you like your teachers?"

"Mr. Reyes, the art teacher, he's the only one that really made any impression. He's pretty cool. I've got him twice tomorrow."

"I still think it's strange how your school's schedule is." She said. She didn't really have that much of an opposition to it, she just wanted to keep talking to her son.

"It's actually nice. Unless you absolutely hate your class." He finished his plate, but still stayed.

"Meet anyone?" She asked cautiously. She knew he got touchy with that, but she figured that, since it was a new town, people would be open. They wouldn't know. People wouldn't judge him about what happened or how he acted after.

"Yeah. I did." He smiled and got up to put his dishes away.

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Oh, well, yes? What's their name?"

"Jamie. We have Painting together."

"Ooh, a girl." His dad chimed in. "Is she pretty?"

"Dad, Jamie's a boy." He chuckled and shook his head.

Anna laughed and patted her husband's arm. "He's nice?" She asked.

"Yeah. He showed me around and we talked." He yawned. "You know, I think I'll go to bed early. 'Night."

"Goodnight, love you."

"Love you, too," he called out from the hall.

"Love you too, son! Jeez," his father said.

"Goodnight, dad!"

Mark chuckled and looked at Anna.

"This was a good idea. It's only been a day, but I can tell he's so much better." She said and hugged him around the shoulders. He agreed.

Jack's second day of school was good. Just good. Not great. Not like the day before, but it consisted of mostly of art classes, and he'd been looking forward to experimenting with 3D art. Even though the ceramics teacher wasn't Mr. Reyes, he didn't mind her too much and mostly kept to himself. In all honesty, he just wanted it to be third period. Maybe it was all wishful thinking. Maybe Jamie was just being nice, and didn't really want to keep sitting with him, and talking with him, and laughing with him. He could've misinterpreted his kindness, and he didn't want to seem too eagerly dependent on his newfound table buddy.

When the next day had risen, and after his now routine pre-painting smoke, Jack walked into the classroom(on time) with a hopeful feeling inside his chest, and sweaty-cold hands.

"Jack! Over here!" Jamie called out and waved his hand around. He had moved the table closer to the window.

Jack smiled with the corner of his mouth and walked over. Jamie pulled out the chair enough for Jack to sit down, right next to him since the other side of the table was pressed flush to the wall.

"Why the change in view?"

"You know, as much as I love watching Caitlin try to molest that Sophomore, I like looking outside much better." They both laughed.

"No complaints from me. Oh, look at this." Jack pulled out his paintbrushes. "I came prepared."

Jamie nodded his head in approval. They spent the class finishing their mini-assignment. Jack finished his thirty minutes in, but Jamie's was still half-finished and... Well, without direction, but Jack kept his mouth shut.

"So, how long have you been here for?" Jamie asked.

"A little less than a month."

"Been around town much? It's not very big but we've got some nice spots."

"No, I've been really, uh, focused on moving in."

"Mmm," Jamie mused and sat down his brush. "Wanna hang out sometime? There's this coffee shop downtown that I think you'd like."

"Oh," Jack stared, "yeah. Yeah, that sounds awesome." He tried not to sound too eager. I mean, teens hung out with each other all the time. He wanted to seem normal. Hanging out? Psh, he did that all the time.

"Here, put your number in." He pulled out his phone and offered it to Jack. "Can I see your phone?" They swapped numbers, and Jack felt sort of giddy when he took his phone back. His heartrate picked up as he put it back in his pocket.

"I don't really care much for coffee, but they've got a lot of good stuff to eat and drink and stuff."

After the bell rang and Jack had to go to English, he couldn't stop thinking about how Jamie would feel about him in a non-school atmosphere. Sometimes people aren't who you think they are when you get to know them. Jack knew that. Anyone who's ever made a friend knows that. And Jack _used_ to have friends.

Friday came soon enough, and Jamie had still talked and laughed and joked and Jack and him slowly started to sit with each other at lunch. Jack's brain nagged him over his missing smoke break, but he shut it out when Jamie would comment about how ridiculous the new mural in E building was. When school had gotten out for the weekend, Jack had been painting with his freshly unpacked canvases until four when Jamie texted him.

He set his brush in the jar of water before snatching up his cell and grinning.

_Hey feelin up to goin to coffee cave?_

He waited a minute before responding so he didn't seem too desperate.

_Yeah, sure. Where is it?_

_main st. Ill stand outside so u know_

_Okay. See you soon._

Jack slipped it in his back pocket before grabbing his hoodie off the chair and tugging it over his head and rushing out the door.

"Mom, dad, I'm going out!" He called into the kitchen.

"Wait, wait, wait, kiddo." His dad said. "Come in here for a minute." Jack sighed like a true teenager and walked in.

"Yeah?"

"Where're you going?"

"To a coffee shop. It's just downtown. Jamie wanted me to meet up with him."

His mom smiled, very pleased.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe not." Jack bit his lip. "So, can I go now?"

"No," his dad stood and pulled up his belt.

Jack looked at his mom for help and could feel the disappointment sinking in.

"You have to take this first." He pulled out his wallet and gave him a twenty. "Just if you guys decide to grab something to eat."

Jack smirked and took the bill. "Thanks, dad."

"Have fun, sweetie." His mom said and nudged him out.

"'Bye!"

Jack spotted him right when he turned on to Main Street.

"Yo, Jackie!" He called out and waved him over. Jack quickly walked until he was beside him, and Jamie grinned. "Welcome to The Coffee Cave!" He gestured to the building, which looked very much like a cheap clothing store.

"This is a coffee shop?" Jack asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"No, it's on the side." Jamie punched him lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon, Jack. Keep up."

Jack chuckled and followed him to the side of the building, where, set back enough to not notice if you were walking down Main, were steps leading to a door.

"A lot of college students come here because it makes them feel cool." Jamie said as he walked in. It was now empty except for a little room to the left and the cashier who was cleaning a table.

"Well, I think this place looks cool," Jack commented. The walls were painted like a starry night and many canvas paintings were hanging on the walls. The left side of the room was all brick and the furniture didn't match each other, but still managed to look nice.

"Yeah. I thought you'd like it."

They each ordered a drink and Jamie insisted that Jack should try the coffee cake, so he bought a square. They had stayed there for an hour before Jack mentioned that his family was going to paint their kitchen and living room.

"Oh, that sounds fun."

"I love painting. Just not walls." Jack sipped at his second drink, feeling the caffeine from the first cup makes its way through his limbs.

"If you need any help, I can always, you know, help." He offered.

Jack's heartbeat quickened. He didn't know if it was nervousness or anxiety. His anxiety had sort of gone away. Maybe it was coming back.

"I... I think that'd be cool."

"Cool. So, tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, it's a date."

They stayed until six, just talking and Jack learned a bit more about his new friend. He had a special place in his heart for mythology. His mom was the receptionist that Jack talked to the first day of school. His parents were divorced. But something that stuck with Jack was that he had a little sister named Sophie.

"How old is she?" He asked hesitantly.

"She's eight. I love her, but she's just so all over the place. I've never met a kid with so much energy."

Jack bit his lip hard.

"Oh. That's nice." He said stiffly.

Jamie sensed something was off, so he directed the conversation away.

They both decided to order a sandwich before leaving for the night and taking off to their designated houses.

Jamie waved as Jack walked down the street and turned the corner. He smiled to himself and walked home with it plastered to his face. He hadn't had that much fun since his best friend moved early that summer. The past few months had been lonely for him. Maybe he was being a little selfish, I mean, did Jack _really_ want to spend time with him? Was he just feeling like the weird new kid who didn't know anyone yet but then he'd get really popular and leave the first guy to show him kindness?

_Oh, come on. Jack's cool, he wouldn't do that._

Jamie waved to his mom as he walked through the door and went into his room. He shrugged off his jacket, let it fall to the floor, and layed on his bed, resting on his elbows with his hands cupping his cheeks. He was still smiling. Jack was really something.

_God, no, Jamie. Don't do it. Please don't do it._

He dropped his head into the pillow with a groan. He had done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter Four

Jamie _knew_ before elementary school that he was different from all the other little boys and girls. He knew when he was five years old, and Caitlin had kissed him on the playground and he couldn't stop crying. He didn't know what it _meant_ then, but after he was thirteen, and the boys at Ryan's birthday party had been talking about what girls they thought were hot, he couldn't conjure up any names and they called him a fag. He went home the next day, layed on his bed, and thought about what the word 'fag' really meant and why he found no girls attractive. He later came, _much_ later, to the conclusion that he must've been a 'fag' because girls made him uncomfortable and he had always thought Ryan was... Well, he was cute, now that he thought of it. Ryan was his best friend though. And he had been under the impression that being gay was a bad thing. There had been one openly gay boy at Burgess. He was a year older than Jamie and had been beaten up until you couldn't tell who he was by looking at his bloody, bruised face. When Jamie came to the conclusion that he was in fact like that guy (who had fled immediately after getting out of the hospital), he was scared right into the darkest corner of the closet. He felt like he'd take his secret to the grave- that is until Ryan moved away and Jamie realized he didn't have to live in a closed-minded town for the rest of his life.

He told himself he wouldn't crush on anyone until he was gone and in a city and going to college. He _told_ himself. He had broken his own pinkie promise. But it didn't matter too much, right? It was just a crush. If he never told Jack, never hinted at it, never got too close, there wouldn't be a problem.

But Jamie couldn't help but feel just a bit _too_ excited about going over to his house.

The next day, Jack woke at 9 in the morning. For the longest time, he layed there and stared at his ceiling. He wasn't quite sure why, only that it felt nice to relax and feel like he was floating in midair-the only thing keeping him grounded was the feeling of the mattress caressing his back and the blankets around his waist. When he looked at his clock, it was 10:14, so he stood up and decided he'd just wash his hair and wait to take a real shower after he was covered with paint.

When he walked into the living room his parents were already spreading out a tarp to keep drops off the wood floors. He quickly aided them and then, as they had sat on the couch to take a short break, he brought up Jamie.

"He said he'd help us if we needed it."

Anna looked at her husband. "Well, why not. The more teenage boys, the less we have to do." He said.

Jack hopped up and got his phone from his room.

_Are you up yet?_

After a few minutes, his phone chimed.

_yeah. u guys ready?_

Jack said yes and where his address was. Jamie proceeded to tell him he'd be over in fifteen minutes.

"He'll be here in a bit."

"Oh, great. I should make some snack for him. What does he like to eat? Is he allergic to anything?"

"Mom, mom, calm down. I'm sure you don't have to make snacks. We aren't having a play date."

She gave him a look. "We must me polite hosts. He's your new friend, and this is his first time coming over. I'll pop some popcorn and lay out some crackers." She hustled into the kitchen and Jack gently smirked to himself.

Fifteen minutes later, right on the dot, there was a knock on the door. Jack practically ran to open the door.

"Hey," Jamie greeted.

"Hey, uh, just come on in." Jack said and opened the door wider.

"Cool," Jamie stepped in and looked around. Anna pushed past Jack when she heard them talking.

"Jamie, it's so nice to meet you!" She grabbed his hand, not shaking it, but holding it like old women and excited mothers do. "You're such a sweet boy to offer to help. Isn't he such a sweetie, Mark?"

Mark, who had just peered in to look from the kitchen, a hand full of popcorn, said, "Teenage boys aren't sweet, Anna. They're courteous."

"Well, he's sweet."

"Nice to meet you, too," Jamie said with a chuckle.

"Well, this has been sufficiently awkward. How about we start painting?" Jack said after a pause.

"Yes, lets." Mark clapped his hands. "Jack and I'll take the rollers and start at the top. Jamie, how about you and Anna use the brushes and do the bottom?"

"Alright, that sounds good." Jamie said, and they started painting it from a gross, puke green to off white.

It took a while, since halfway through they all had a sort of paint fight; leaving Jamie's hair looking a lot like Jack's. After they finished the living room, going over the brush with the roller so it had the same texture, they decided to take a break before moving to the kitchen.

"Mark, we forgot! C'mon, before the paint dries." Anna stood up hurriedly and tugged him to the corner. "Jack, get your little butt over here."

Jack was thankful that his back was to Jamie as a blush burned across his cheeks over his mother's words.

Jamie stood as he watched each of them press a hand into the wet paint at the bottom right corner of the room, leaving a ghost of an impression on the wall.

"Jamie, sweetie, come here." She waved him over and he hesitantly shuffled there. "How about you put your hand print down?"

"Oh, no, that's okay." He said and blushed a little.

"C'mon, you helped paint. You're like part of the family now." She insisted.

"You might as well, she won't let you leave the house until you do." Jack said and grinned at him.

Jamie's breath caught in his throat. Why did he have to smile like that at him, with that little twinkle of mischievousness in his eye?

"W-well, okay, I guess." He crouched and pressed his hand next to Jack's impression awkwardly and Anna hugged him around the shoulders.

"There, was that so hard?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"How about we take a lunch break, then get started on the kitchen? I'll make some sandwiches. And maybe some soup. And a salad, we've been working hard. What kind do you want, sweetie?" She looked at Jamie.

"Um, whatever's fine. I'm not picky."

"Isn't he a sweetie?" She said to her husband, who crossed his arms and shook his head with a small smile.

"How about we go into my room?" Jack asked.

 _My god, say that again,_ Jamie thought then reprimanded himself. _Get your head out of the gutter. We talked about this before we came over, didn't we?_

"Hmm?"

"I said, how about we go into my room?"

Okay, so Jamie wasn't a Saint. Bite him.

"Alright," he responded, then Jack led him to the back of the house and through the door.

"Well, this is where I sleep and hang out on the weekdays… _and_ weekends." Jack said and proceeded to flip on his lamp and sit on his desk chair backwards. He had his arms folded on top of each other on of the back of the chair, with his chin resting on top of them.

"Your mom's nice." Jamie started, trying to distract himself from staring at Jack.

Jack laughed lightly, and Jamie's heart fluttered.

"She's just excited to see I've made a friend."

"Moving can be tough," Jamie commented and Jack stiffened slightly.

"Yeah, it can." Jack said.

"So, uh, do you guys do the hand print thing a lot?"

"Oh, yeah, it started seven years ago. Now every time we paint our living room, we do that."

Jamie chuckled.

"That's pretty cool. How did it start?"

Jack's body language changed instantly. His jaw tightened, and fingers gripped the side of his chair until his knuckles turned white, his muscles turning rigid.

"I don't know. It just did."

Jamie wouldn't be lying if he said he felt uncomfortable and he swore he could feel a cold wind radiating from the other teen.

"I-I'm sorry for-"

"No," Jack interrupted and slumped, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've reacted like that. I just... I just don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. You know, that's fine. It's fine." Jamie insisted.

Jack gave him a small half smile.

They slowly, but effortlessly, slipped back into their usual chatting.

"C'mon boys, lunch time!" Anna called and they both got up and went into the kitchen.

She had in fact made soup, salad, and sandwiches.

"I hope you don't mind that there's no meat." She said as she sat down.

"Oh, that's fine."

"I mind," Mark said from where he was sitting.

"No one cares, hun."

They ate with playful bantering and chatting, and Jack felt glad that his friend seemed to be comfortable and unaffected by their blatant awkwardness from earlier.

"Well, I guess it's time to paint this room." Anna said, but made no move to get up.

"Do we really have to? This color's nice." Mark said and leaned back in his chair.

"It doesn't match the cows, hun." She said, but you could hear in her tone that she was considering leaving it.

"Cow's eyes are brown. The walls are brown. There."

"Mmm..." She paused for a few moments as if she was doing calculation in her head. "Okay. Fine. I might change my mind later though."

Mark grinned congratulatory and high-fived Jack.

"You guys are free to do whatever then."

"Actually, my mom wanted me to come right back. I have to babysit."

All three of the Frosts' lips tightened into thin lines.

"Okay, sweetie." Anna said and began to clear the table. "Thank you very much for your help today. It was nice meeting you." Jamie smiled at her and thanked her for the food.

"I guess I'll see you on Monday then." Jack said and stood up to walk him to the door.

"Yeah, okay. It was fun."

"Yeah, thanks for the help." Jack smiled at him and his eyes warmed slightly.

Jamie nodded and waved. "See you later."

"See ya."

"Oh, good, you're here," Mrs. Bennett said when Jamie walked through the door, "Sophie's playing in her room. I already fed her. Oh dear, what happened to your hair?"

"Uh, paint fight." He said sheepishly and grinned.

"Well, clean up, okay? I should be back by seven." She decided to skip the usual goodbye kiss to the head and quickly walked out the door.

He decided to take a quick shower while Sophie was preoccupied.

"Jamie! Jamie!" His sister called from down the hall. In a flash, she ran up and slammed him with a hug after he walked out the bathroom. "Look what I drew. Isn't it pretty?"

"The prettiest thing I've ever seen." He said and picked her up. "Do you want me to draw with you?"

"Yes, yes! Jamie, can you draw me a tree? A-and put a squirrel on it?"

Jamie smiled and laughed. "Of course, my fair princess."

They spent an hour drawing until Sophie insisted that they bake cookies, then watch Monsters Inc. At six, Jamie cooked mac and cheese, then made her take a bath.

"Thanks so much," his mother said when she had gotten home and heard Sophie's giggles in the bathroom.

"It's no problem." Jamie said with a shrug and sat down at the table. "Uh, mom, I've got to ask a question."

"Yeah, kiddo?" She asked while putting some groceries into the cupboard.

"Could you sit?" His eyes stayed locked onto the counter in front of him, his hands nervously clasped.

"Oh, okay," She said cautiously and sat down opposite of him, "this is serious then?"

"Well, yeah. Kinda." Jamie straightened up and looked her in the eyes. "Sooo... What do you do when you like someone... but you can't? And you know they'll never like you?"

"You're asking _me_ for relationship advice?" She said, shocked. She had figured, since he was a teenaged boy and for as long as he had been _born_ he had never been interested in anyone.

"Yeah, mom, okay, I am. But really, what do I do?"

"Okay," she straightened up too and crossed her arms on the table. "well, first, how do you know that they'll never like you back?"

"I just... I just know." He bit the inside of his bottom lip, his eyes making their way back to the countertop.

"Okay... Okay, then, how much do you like this person?"

"So much," he mumbled and layed his head on the table with a thump. "I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop. I barely even know them. It's just this… this _feeling_ I get around them I can't shake."

Mrs. Bennett opened her mouth then shut it. Someone he barely knew? He knew practically everyone in Burgess. Unless there was someone who was new-

Her eyes opened wide and she retracted her hands into her lap. That boy that Jamie mentioned was new.

"What... What's their name?"

"Does it matter?" He asked miserably. "How do you stop liking someone? I'm desperate."

"Well, um, let's see," she coughed, and Jamie raised his head, "you could reduce your contact with them."

"I can't do that. They're my friend. Plus, we have a class together."

"Oh, well, you can't just... stop?"

"Mom, you're not very helpful." He said with a straight face.

"Jamie, sometimes people like people they can't have. Sometimes it's for the best. Sometimes it's better to stay single." She said and felt close to crying. "When things get hard and don't end up the way you want them to, it could be for the best. One of the hardest things to deal with when you're growing up is loving other people-especially the ones you can't have." What had happened to that other boy had been in the papers. She didn't want that for her son. He could be gay, he could be straight, he could be attracted to people with green hair and purple skin for all she cared. As long as he was safe.

Jamie looked up at the ceiling and quirked his mouth. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks mom."

"There will be someone out there for you when you get older. As long as you're happy with yourself, everything will be alright. Okay?" She said and stood up to give him a hug.

"Jeez, okay mom. No need to get all touchy-feely, I'm not a girl." Jamie said but hugged her back and squeezed.

"I love you," she said and looked him in the eye, "no matter what."

"Love you too." He kissed her cheek and went into his room before playing video games and eventually falling asleep.

Down the street and several blocks away, Jack was laying on his bed with his arms behind his head. Today had been fun, even though it had its tense moments. After Jamie had left, his mother had gone back to the hand prints and sat next to them silently until his dad had lifted her up and sent her to the bathroom to clean up. Jack had waited till six to shower because he felt lazy and lethargic and wanted to lay around and think about his place in the universe. He was clean and still slightly damp. The cold clang to the droplets on his skin and felt like the little kisses of snowflakes.

He looked at the corner of the room to see the wooden staff that lounged against the wall. It was long and thin and crooked at the tip, like a Sheppard's staff. He treasured it more than anything.

With a sigh, he turned on his side and stared at the wall until he swore he could see pictures in the wallpaper. His eyes started to drift shut, and his last thought before he sunk into unconsciousness was that Jamie's smile was really nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are appreciated!


	5. Chapter Five

When Jack woke that Sunday morning, he decided that it would be a fine day to go explore the town. It had been years since he had just gone out walking with no plans as to where he was headed. It used to bring him great pleasure: wandering around and watching people laugh and interact. After what had happened... He stopped doing it. It no longer made him feel warm and light and fluttery. He just saw tragedy everywhere that he went, which filled him with negative thoughts that clustered at the front of his mind. They buzzed around there, keeping him from any positive thoughts. This caused him to distance himself from everyone, keeping a thick layer of ice between the outside world, but he could feel himself warming up to a certain brown-eyed boy. Not completely though; the layers of ice hadn't melted altogether, and he didn't think they ever would.

It was starting to warm up as he left his house at nine. The sky was a blue that almost matched his eyes, and he saw birds fluttering and singing in the trees. He thought birds were beautiful, with such grace and power and freedom in their little bodies. Flying fascinated him especially.

The town had just started to rustle around but was mostly made up of church goers and adults off to work. The rest of the people who had nothing else to do were still nestled in their homes, and Jack imagined Jamie still in bed, snoring with drool dripping out of his mouth and he chuckled. In all actuality, he felt bad about the way he had acted towards the other. He knew it wasn't fair, and that there was no way Jamie could know what topics to avoid, but Jack couldn't help but flinch and close himself off. He hadn't healed yet. His family hadn't healed.

But in a way, Jamie was helping him heal. Jamie made him feel nice. Jamie made him feel wanted. Jamie made him feel _seen_. And best of all, he made him happy and fluttery and light, just like his walks around town used to.

Jack decided to walk to the park, which had a small playground you could walk to through a small forested path. There was no one around, so he walked in beautiful silence with his hands in his hoodie pouch. The packs of trees slowly started to thin out until he was face to face with a grass clearing and a large pond. Jack froze in his tracks, an icy sensation seeping into his stomach, and stared at it. For a moment, that's all he could do. And then he took off in the opposite direction until he bursted out onto the sidewalk. But he didn't stop there. He kept running until he reached his front door, went past his mother who looked startled, and slammed into his room. He shut the door, twisted the lock, and pounced on his bed with his hands clinging at his hair and his face in the pillow. He didn't know he had been sobbing until he woke up some hours later and felt the sticky itch of dried tears on his cheeks and the soreness of his eyes.

He didn't leave his room, not even after his mother begged him to come out.

* * *

On Monday, Jamie instantly noticed the absence of Jack, since they usually saw each other in the mornings and sat together for lunch; even though it was a B day and they didn't have painting class. He felt worried and concerned, like friends usually are, especially when one of them had an active imagination and always thought of the worst things that could happen. He texted Jack asking if he was okay or sick and didn't get a response which only made him worry more and he couldn't focus for the rest of the day.

He spent thirty minutes after the last bell rang deciding whether or not to go to Jack's house and see what was up or settling with texting him again. He battled between the pros and cons of both situations for several tense minutes. With a distressed look on his face, he decided to just text him again.

_Hey, u okay?_

He never got a response.

* * *

Jack spent most of the day laying on his bed, drifting back and forth between restless sleep and staring at the staff propped up on the wall. He lay, stiff and numb, and would occasionally sit up as if possessed with an urge to fix himself but would just collapse back down in a heap and let out a little sob. He knew it wasn't helping him. He knew that he should've gone to school, or at least replied to Jamie's texts. He knew that there were better ways to make him feel better and he _knew_ that he was only hurting himself.

With a start, he jumped out of his bed, a little wobbly, and took two long strides to his desk. In his top drawer, right next to his sketchbook, in his tin box was something that he had taken comfort in. Taken horrible, beautiful, unhealthy, torturous comfort in.

The metal felt cool and familiar between his fingertips. It had been two weeks since he had touched it, which really wasn't that long, but felt like to an eternity to people like him.

Jackson Overland Frost was a cutter.

And nobody knew it.

He had little scars, none of them longer than three inches, decorating the entirety of his arms. Some were years old. Some were months old. Some were still pink and scabbed.

He went back to his bed with the razor still pinched between his fingers. Sitting on the edge of it, he set the sharp edge on his skin. He kept it there without putting any pressure on it, just letting it tickle his flesh. It was disturbing, how much he had missed the feeling of cutting his skin open and watching it bleed. The desire to was so strong he felt it in his mind and deep within his core, urging him to hurt, like it was the only thing he wanted, or deserved, to feel.

He bit his lip before pressing the blade hard into his skin and drawing it across his forearm. Years of mutilating his body had made him accustomed to the pain and allowed him to cut deeper. It pinched and stung, but he could feel his stress decreasing and his muscles relax. It was sick, but it was an addiction. A release. At least he wasn't injecting his body with drugs.

The blood bubbled and collected on his skin and he smeared it with his thumb, which only aggravated his wound more. But it felt nice. It looked nice. It looked beautiful. So, he did it again. And again. And soon enough, he had five cuts on his left arm and three on his right, and his arms were stinging but he felt better and he layed on his back and looked at the ceiling, his breath heavy.

Jack wasn't suicidal. Jack cherished life. He knew it was special and shouldn't be taken advantage of. He couldn't fathom discarding it like that. But seeing the cuts on his arms, feeling them, and having the control of scarring himself and making him hurt gave him a thrill and made him feel _good_. People thought of cutters as people who wore black and despised life and cried in their room about how much they hated themselves. That wasn't the case. Or, at least for people like him. The people who smiled and hid their scars. People who didn't show off what they did in the confines of their rooms. They knew it was unhealthy. But they couldn't stop. It was a true addiction.

Jack got up after several minutes to clean off his arms in the bathroom. He made sure his parents weren't around and treaded quietly. After cleaning off the blood, he wrapped his arms with thin bandages, because the pressure felt nice and he didn't want to bleed on his sheets or favorite hoodie. For the rest of the day, he listened to his music and painted snow scenes.

* * *

The next day, he went back to school to see a very anxious Jamie.

"Oh, dude, where were you?" Jamie said when he saw him that morning.

"I was feeling sick." Jack replied with a shrug. "Why, did you miss me?" Jack grinned.

Jamie sucked in a breath.

"Oh, you know, whatever." He mumbled. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," Jack said. "I've got to go get my work from my other classes. I'll see you third period, Jamie."

The brown-haired teen practically swooned when he heard his name from the other teens lips. Oh god, he was screwed.

"Okay, see you later." And for some reason unknown to Jamie, he patted his arm.

Jack flinched.

Dear lord.

He was a homophobe, Jamie just knew it.

_I'm so screwed._

Jack wasn't a homophobe, but he did have somewhere he needed to go. He was not, in fact, going to his missed classes. They were mostly art classes and didn't typically have much homework. He was actually going to the little forest in the back of the school to skip his first two classes. He didn't want to learn about history and algebra. He didn't want to do anything but paint and fill his lungs with smoke.

The gap in the fence greeted him like an old friend and he sat on the shaded dirt and lit his first cigarette. He took a slow drag and held it in him till his lungs ached and his throat burned. He blew it out of his nose, as if the effort of opening his mouth was too much, and inhaled a couple breaths of fresh air. He sat up against the tree, letting the bark cut into his back through his shirt, and rested the back of his head against it and closed his eyes. He felt peaceful.

He smoked five cigarettes before lunch and decided that he'd sit with Jamie instead of blowing him off. He knew that he smelled like smoke (and felt light-headed), but there wasn't much he could do to cover it up from his clothes. He chewed on two pieces of mint gum and used some scented lotion on his hands to maybe cover up the smell on his fingers. Thankfully, the lazy breeze that had picked up drifted the smoke away from him, but it didn't help completely. He just hoped Jamie didn't have a sensitive nose.

Jamie didn't say anything when he sat down, or during the whole lunch period. Jamie actually seemed in an edgy mood himself. Jack didn't want to mention anything about it, because he knew how he himself got sometimes and he knew that other people could be as sensitive as him. When they sat down for painting, Jamie still looked like something was heavy on his mind.

Jack had moved on to the next assignment while Jamie was just finishing the old one; a color wheel that showed the primary and secondary colors. Jamie couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier. And this freaking color wheel, which included all the colors of the _rainbow_ wasn't helping. Then it inspired a thought.

"So, rainbows..." Jamie started slowly.

"What about them?" Jack asked while he pinched his sleeve to keep it from getting into the paint.

"They're, uh, pretty, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." He said, slightly distracted.

"They've got some interesting meanings behind them. God's promise to the world, rebirth, the gay community..." Jamie said and slowly drifted to a slight whisper.

"Yeah. They sure do have a lot of jobs." Jack said and put his paintbrush down. "Are you getting to a point or something?"

"I was just kind of curious, how they started representing the LGBT people and stuff..." Jamie said and started blushing uncontrollably. Oh god, this was a mistake.

"I couldn't tell you." Jack replied and started painting again.

"What do you think?" Jamie knew he should've stopped while he was ahead, but he couldn't keep the words from spilling out of his mouth.

"About what?"

"The LGBT community?"

"Well, I'm not a homophobe, if that's what you're asking."

"You aren't?" Jamie asked, surprised. At least he had that.

"No. I mean, that would be pretty stupid," Jack chuckled. "I kinda can't be."

"Oh, okay, uh, wow," Jamie sucked in a breath. "that's good then."

"Why?" Jack looked up at the other teen's eyes.

"No reason, just curious." Jamie said quickly. Too quickly. Jack quirked his eyebrow.

"Jamie.. are you gay?"

Jamie's heart stopped. It literally stopped. He just died. Dead. Here sit Jamie Maxwell Bennett, July 25, 1996-September 28, 2012. Beloved brother and son.

"Jamie? You don't need to be embarrassed." Jack sat up and pointed at himself. "I, Jack Frost, am pansexual. I'm attracted to people regardless of how they identify. See, I'm not afraid to say it. If you're gay, it doesn't matter." He gave him a reassuring smile. "If you're straight it doesn't matter. You're my friend, okay?"

That brought him back. _You're my friend._ Friend. Friend.

Friend friend friend friend friend friend.

"I have to go to the bathroom." Jamie stated and left the room without looking up.

He went to the closest bathroom with an actual door and locked it after making sure it was empty. He placed his hands on either side of the sink and looked at his reflection. And he looked. Jack Frost... Did he really just say that he was pan? That was like bi, right? Jamie tried to remember. After he said he was pan, Jamie kind of blanked out until Jack mentioned they were friends. Friends. It stung and was reassuring at the same time.

But Jack was okay that he was gay. Or, possibly gay, according to Jack's current knowledge. Well, considering how he left, the suspicions were gone. Jamie was gay, and Jack knew it.

And Jack was okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far!


End file.
